Just for Laughs
by Authoress K. C
Summary: Very gross and disgusting and lots of blood. Ewie.


Just for Laughs  
  
By: Karie  
  
~~~  
  
I was reading a story and damned if I don't suddenly get an urge to write about Farfello's eye for a SECOND time. Read EYE OF THE ACCUSED sometime, if I ever get it posted. That was my first story about his eye. Now, there will be OOCness, AU more than is probably healthy, but damned if I care. So, I hope you don't mind. Of course, if you do, be assured, I CARE LESS. *smile* Enjoy Minna!  
  
~~~  
  
Farfello stared into brown eyes, contemplating them with a seriousness that probably wasn't healthy, considering that he was sitting in front of a bodyless head. Decapitated wasn't quite the word for this thing, it looked like he'd just chewed the thing right off. His face was glaringly red, and it was all in his hair and all around him, he was sitting in a pool of red, staring into the blank, glassy eyes of a bodyless head. The flies didn't seem to make a differance too him. The place stank of decomposition. The head was probably days, if not weeks, old.  
  
"Did you pray before you died?"  
  
The man asked softly, reaching out to push two fingers into the head's mouth, touching the tounge before pulling it out until he was lifting the head by the tounge.  
  
"Did you say that name, with this tounge, with that throat?"  
  
The man gripped the hair and pulled, pulling the head one way and the tounge the other until they parted with sick ripping sounds, the tounge flopping wetly into his hand, blood spattering tiredly over the man and the floor. He threw the tounge over his shoulder, and put the head back down, arranging the hair neatly again.  
  
"Well, I can't think that you'll be praying with that tounge ever again. No. Never never. Did you look to the sky for the countenance in the sky? Did you, with both of your eyes? Did you search for a sign of redmption?"  
  
Farfello plunged his fingers into the man's eyes socket and ripped away one of the brown eyes, holding it in his white fist until a voice hailed him from someplace.  
  
"Farf, lets GO. Brad is WAITING."  
  
He patted the head, blood dripping from the eye and mouth, as he got up and walked out of the room, dripping a red trail behind him. He still held the eye. The nerve and tissue dangled from his fist. He looked at his German teammate who looked a bit green then looked down, surprised that it was still there. He held it up for a moment then tightened his fist and the eye was crushed, stuff oozing out of his hand, between his fingers and down his arm.  
  
He laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed.  
  
"His eyes weren't gold."  
  
---  
  
The room was white, the bed was white, the blankets were white, his skin was white, his hair was white and his straight jacket was white over the white hospital clothes. All you saw were two gold eyes peering from a sea of white. A face appeared in the tiny square window, high up away from the floor of the room, observing the two gold eyes. They looked straight ahead and never moved, though if you looked carefully you could see his face, and see his smile. He looked innocent. Sitting there, calm, smiling, innocent. Only the morgue full of mutilated bodies told that he was guilty as sin and deserved to be in that room and in that jacket.  
  
"Is he doing better today, doctor?"  
  
"Hard to say. He's not moved since you put him in there. He just sits there, and smiles."  
  
"Thats what he did when they arrested him. But, he was sitting on the floor of the church, talking to the dead body of the preist, the nuns around him ignored and smiling, asking questions. The man had no tounge and both eyes were sitting on the floor, smashed."  
  
"Well, he's not said a word and he's not moved an inch, not even a centimeter, not even a MILLIMETER. Are you sure it was him? He looks so young and innocent."  
  
"You saw what happened to Bucky. Nearly ripped his arm off his body. He's guilty as it gets. He's schedualed for shock therapy in a week."  
  
"Are you sure that's nessicary. He was quite beaten up when he was entered here."  
  
"He did it to himself. Admitted it. Said he wondered if God would save him, if he wouldn't even save his own children. He called the Priest and Nuns 'God's Children' All the time."  
  
"He's a madman..."  
  
"Boy. He's not even twenty yet, doc, He's a nineteen-year-old murderer and psychopath."  
  
"A boy... A boy did all that?"  
  
"Aye sah, a boy. Beaten, taken from the father what did it, given to a church orphanage, and then killed everyone in the building. Called the other orphans 'sheep' sah. Said he was slaughtering the lambs for passover and that God's Children were refusing the blood of the pure lambs to save their souls. Said he was the only one who really believed."  
  
---  
  
"Talk to us! Why did you kill them!"  
  
The boy in the chair only grinned more, his white face, white hair, stark against the dark metal chair. Every time he refused to say anything, they turned the voltage up and on. And everytime they did, he's throw his head back and laugh as his body jerked and writhed against the restraints. He'd narrowly missed severing his tounge the last time.  
  
Finally he was pinned down, tied into his jacket and escorted back to his room, shoved in there and the door was bolted shut, with heavy steel bars that took two muscular orderlies to even get off the ground. Loud, frightening, brittle laughter echoed out of the air shafts from the room suddenly, the sound splintering and breaking as it went round and bubbled up. Until you couldn't tell what was echoing and what wasn't.  
  
---  
  
Blood... Lots of it, a wash of red over clear vision, two hands, coated, smothered in it, hands fisted in blonde hair, holding the head of a man with honey coloured eyes up out of the Red Sea. It smelled of copper and of decay, of death. Red, it was everywhere he could see. The furniture was red, the walls, the windows, the tables, the carpets. And in the middle of it all that man, honey eyes open, staring in death, overflowing with things he couldn't say.  
  
Why couldn't he say it! Say it now! Tell me I'm worthless now! Tell me you hate me now! Tell me I'm going to Hell! Tell me about God one more time! Tell me what it is that makes me a sinner and you a saint! Tell me! TELL ME! TELL ME NOW!  
  
The Red Sea, it clung to him, to his clothes, nothing but rags on his thin, scarred frame. His clothes torn and bloodstained, too small for him, because he only had the one set of clothes. Clothes fit for a ten year old, not for a boy of sixteen. Clothes that were ripped, sewen and ripped again. The red clung to these clothes, being absorbed until they were as red as the sea.  
  
Hurt me again! Hit me! Kick me! Slap me! Punch me! Pinch me! Beat me! Use me! Abuse me! Fuck me again! You say I'm a sinner! Why me! Why me and not you! You do these things! You hurt me! You say its because you're going to heaven! I'm going to hell because you hurt me! I'm a martyr! I'm the one that should go to heaven! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill YOU! I'll KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!  
  
That laughter, where was it coming from? That sound, that loud, harsh rattling, sharp, peircing sound! Where was that sound coming from? Why couldn't he find the source? Where was the thing, the one making that sound. Why couldn't he catch his breath? Was he crying. No, there was only the red, the Red Sea on his face. His mouth was open, his mouth, he could feel his lips parted, his teeth and his tounge with his fingers soaked in that red water. Was it him? Was it coming from him? That awful, hurtful, biting sound?  
  
I'll laugh at You, at the things You do. At the things You cause me to do. I'll laugh at You forever, God, because as long as I can laugh at You, You can't touch me. You can't take me away until I can't laugh at You anymore. When I can't smile because I'm hurting Your children, God, because You'll never know what I know. I know You, God, and if I can hurt Your children, and make you bleed this Red Sea around me for the rest of my life, then I'll never stop laughing at You, Lord, because You won't do anything about it until there isn't anyone left who believes in You like I do! I'll hurt You, Lord, forever!  
  
---  
  
"Who's that? Is there even anyone in that room??"  
  
"Oh, this room? Yeah, can't you see the eyes? There, in the corner, those yellow eyes."  
  
"Yikes, what did that poor bastard do?"  
  
"Killed people. First they found his father dead in their house, with him laying in the blood, covered in it so you couldn't tell what he looked like except for those yellow eyes. They put him in an orphanage at some church and a few years later, they found him talking to the corpse of the man of the cloth, surrounded by the dead bodies of every nun in the place. The dormatories were full of dead children, their blood covering every surface in the dorms. It was like the Red Sea, man. They used to give him shock treatments every other week, or so some of them say. Talk is, he used to laugh when they shocked him and then just sit and smile when they weren't. Never says anything. He gets fed regular, bathed by the biggest orderlies in the place, then put back in there. No one ever hears him talk."  
  
"Oh. Man, he's insane."  
  
"So's the rest of us, but nothing comes near him."  
  
"Cripes. Eh, whats that noise?"  
  
"Its him. He's laughin' Ya hear it all the time, like clock work almost. At noon everyday, as soon as the churchbells start, so does he, and at six o'clock at night, he stops, because thats when Mass lets out. Noon too six he laughs, every day."  
  
"Criminy, lets get away from this place, man, he's giving me the creeps."  
  
"Yeah. We just let the psycho alone. Ya know, he never has any visitors? No family, friends or nothing. They gave him a pet when he was first here. He said he wanted a cat. A black one, with green eyes."  
  
"Where is it? I didn't see any cat."  
  
"Exactly. It dissapeared one day. No one's ever seen any remains or anything. They say he ate it. Bones, fur and everything."  
  
"Gross, can we drop the subject?"  
  
"Yeah. Lets go play cards."  
  
---  
  
"His mind is gone, warped beyond belief. Look at this, all he does is think about random things. He doesn't think chronologically. He thinks of the preist and then talks about his father. He thinks of the children and then about someone who hurt him in unspeakable ways. This is all out of order."  
  
"You see a lot of Catholicism in it too. The Red Sea. God. The preist, the church, all this religion. How can such a religious person kill so many people??"  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
The two men leaned over the monitor, while the man walked around the steel room, hands testing the walls, a grin on his face like the Cheshire Cat. His gold eyes as bright as a childs, and not a word or a sound from him. The probes showed nothing but pictures, as the machinery turned the thought patterns into something recognisable. Nothing made sense: a stained glass window and a kiss from someone. A chair covered in blood and a cross carried by a nun. A childs body nailed to a door frame and head full of blonde hair covered in blood and called Papa.  
  
The pictures were distorted and random, nothing made any sense, until everything went awash in red, blood spraying as the bells sounded and his laughter echoed.  
  
"We won't get anymore out of him until six this evening. He laughs until Mass is over. The original doctors timed it to a science. You can set a clock or another time peice by it. Starts at 12 and stops at 6."  
  
"Has he ever had a roommate??"  
  
"Everyone's afraid of him. No one will go near too him, or attempt to put him with other people."  
  
"Well, it should be tried."  
  
"Hmm..."  
  
---  
  
"Jei, this is your new room. And this is your roommate. Patrick. He's Irish, just like you, Jei. You should both get along very nicely."  
  
The man left the door open and the boy sitting on the cot on the left side stared at the tall, thin man with gold eyes and fawn brown hair. The man's hair was at his shoulders, and those shoulders were angular, and sharp. Finally the boy smiled.  
  
"'Ello, Jei."  
  
The man never stopped smiling, but one pale, birdlike hand lifted and twitched back and forth automatically, waving.  
  
"D'you want to go to the common and play a game with me?"  
  
The man nodded and followed the black-haired boy with the brown eyes from their room and into a room with wooden floors, pale peach coloured walls and furniture, televisions, and people. Those gold eyes never stopped moving. The boy sat down at a table.  
  
"Sit here, Jei. We can play Sorry. D'you know how to play?"  
  
Jei shook his head, still smiling. There were people here. He was safe as long as Papa didn't catch him alone. The Father wouldn't strike him and force him to his knees if they weren't alone. As long as he wasn't alone.  
  
"I'll teach you to play. C'mon, sit down. Haven't you ever seen people before."  
  
He nodded and sat obediantly. The brown eyes took in light, lightening to a softer colour, more honey than brown. Jei jerked backwards as the hair took on a yellow colour, and those honey eyes stared through him. He tipped the chair backwards, spilling out of it, scrambling away, ignoring the pain in his wrist, his pain wasn't important. How did he come here? He'd died! He'd killed him himself! Papa was dead! Should be dead for eternity! The Father said that the dead couldn't come back!  
  
"Jei? Whats wrong with you? C'mon, don't you want to play with me?"  
  
"Play...... With you?? NO.... NO! NO! Don't touch me again! I killed you! KILLED YOU! YOU'RE DEAD! DEAD DON'T COME BACK! DON'T YOU DARE STRIKE ME AGAIN PAPA! DON'T TOUCH ME! GO AWAY!"  
  
Jei's gold eyes were wide and round as he screamed hoarsely in the corner, his arms around his head, back pressed to the walls, not seeing his surroundings, just the haunting, familiar place in his memories. Then the bells began to ring and he saw the body of the Father, and of the sisters, God's Children, and of the Lambs. He began to laugh as the bells rang. He always wanted to laugh through Mass, because it was all just one big joke. A joke nobody ever seemed to quite get. It was one big joke, from noon till eve, it was a joke.  
  
"JEI! JEI! SOMEONE GET WATER! THROW SOME COLD WATER ON HIM, WILL YOU?!"  
  
The water doused him and dripped red and his laughter became hoarse as he stared at it in facination.  
  
"Red.... It's always so red... Like the Red Sea..."  
  
"Jei, JEI! Snap out of it, man!"  
  
Those gold eyes looked up into brown, black hair falling into them, worried features relaxing as his face calmed and took on once more that calm, innocent expression.  
  
"What the hell was wrong with you? You've nearly ripped your hand off your arm, Jei."  
  
"Nothing. I'm fine. Teach me that game."  
  
---  
  
"Where is Jei?? Where have you put him!"  
  
"Madam, calm yourself, and step into my office."  
  
The doctor straightened his glasses over blue eyes, walking into the calming atmosphere of his office, allowing the lady to settle into a leather chair, while he sat behind an impersonal desk, peering at her. Her light brown hair, her soft tawny eyes, a beautiful face, so young and so sweet. Her clothes of a fashionable sort, a wedding band on her hand.  
  
"Now, tell me what you're on about, my dear woman."  
  
"My SON! Jei! Where is Jei William Orwells?"  
  
"Is that truely his real name?"  
  
"Of course it is! I'm his mother, I ought to know my own son's name!"  
  
"Jei William Orwells? And you are?"  
  
"Steph Marie Leydock. Previously Orwells, maiden name McCoy."  
  
"Well, Mrs Leydock, your son is a ward of the state, since, at the time of his enterance, no living relitive could be found."  
  
"I was not in the country."  
  
"Of course. And since then he has been in this mental facility, undergoing various treatments and tests to try and assist his mental unsatability."  
  
"Mental unsabaility?! What are you talking about?"  
  
"Your son has killed people, Mrs. Leydock. First his father. Presumably Mr. Orwells. Then a church full of nuns, orphans and a priest. He murdered them all, Mrs. Leydock, if you would like to see the files."  
  
"Absolutly! I want to know what that man did to my son that made him this way! My Jei William wouldn't have ever hurt a fly."  
  
"Be assured Mrs., that he has hurt more than flies since you've known him last."  
  
The doctor produced practically a book, labeled neatly, and fadingly, JEI 00225. The woman opened it and flipped through it, obviously disturbed by everything. Then she became horrified.  
  
"Shock treatment?! How DARE you do that to a human being!"  
  
"Rest assured ma'am, that when that was discovered, this facility was reinstated and restaffed."  
  
The woman moved on and then closed the file and handed it back.  
  
"It says that beyond a few minor episodes, he's been fine, and I wish to take him home, or at least see him and visit him. Jei William will recognise his own Mother."  
  
"Of course. I'll take you too him."  
  
The man led her too the common hall where the white coloured head was easy to pick out, it was bent over a large, thick black book with gilt edges.  
  
"Jei. Jei, come here. Put down the Bible, Jei."  
  
The man rose and closed the Bible, setting it in the chair and walking over, golden eyes fixed before him. He stopped a respectable distance away. His hair had been cut after a few minor issues, and it looked descent.  
  
"Jei, you have a visitor. Do you know who this woman is, Jei?"  
  
The man's eyes tracked the pant covered legs, the belt, the blouse, the ring on her hand and the face and hair.  
  
"Mama?? Mama??"  
  
"Yes, darling, it's Mama, I've come back, my baby."  
  
"Mama... Mama! MAMA!"  
  
The man reached out for her like a small child and she drew him too her, stroking his hair while he clutched her, just like a tiny child would.  
  
"Mama... Mama..."  
  
"Shh, hush hush, my darling, my Jei William. It'll be all right. Mama is back now, my lovely baby boy. And Mama is never letting you go again. Oh, Jei, you've grown so in my absence."  
  
"Mama... Mama... Why'd you leave, Mama??"  
  
"Mama couldn't stay any longer, darling. She swears it. I couldn't afford your ticket too. I sent for you, but you were gone, and no one knew where too. Oh, how I've spent my time looking for you. I've been spending my life searching for you, darling."  
  
"Mama... Papa hurt me.... Papa hit me..."  
  
"Papa will never hit you again, I'll never let you be harmed. D'you want to go home now, with Mama? D'you want to meet your new Papa?"  
  
"Yes, Mama... Take me with you... Please don't leave me here.... I'm so afraid here, Mama...."  
  
The woman turned to the doctor.  
  
"You see. He wants to go. He hates it here, he knows when he's been hurt and he loves me. I'm his mother, you have to let him go."  
  
"Of course. Let him say goodbye, and gather what he has, while we go deal with a bit of paperwork. Jei, I want you too wait by the stairs. Don't go anywhere else after you've said goodbye to Patrick and Ken."  
  
"Yes, Doctor. Don't leave me, Mama! I'll be waiting for you!"  
  
"Of course, Baby! Oh, Jei William..."  
  
The woman followed the white coated man and signed the required release papers, agreed that at any time that she felt she couldn't handle him that she would call and get help, then finally was allowed to go and leave with her son. She hurried to the stairs and there stood the young man, waiting on her. His face lit up when she came hurrying towards him.  
  
"Mama! Mama!"  
  
She took his hand and led him out, into the sunlight. He squinted and cried out, throwing up his arms.  
  
"It hurts, Mama! It hurts!"  
  
"Shh, shh, its only a little sunlight, it won't kill you, you've just not been out in it. You're so thin, and so white."  
  
She took him too a car and drove him to a large house. A servant opened the door and two little children came running to her.  
  
"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy made us wait in the parlor! Said you were bringing home a friend for us to have!"  
  
"No, no. Miranda, Charles, I brough home your big BROTHER. Miranda, Charles, this is Jei William Orwells. Your big brother. Jei, this is Miranda Reneé and Charels Alexander, your little sister and little brother. Say hello."  
  
"Hello, Miranda... Charles."  
  
"You're so tall. And white. Why're you so white?"  
  
"White?"  
  
"Miranda, thats not nice. Jei's just come home from a long way away, and you're being rude. What do you say to him?"  
  
"I'm sorry, big brother. D'you want to play with us? We've got games, and books, and toys!"  
  
"D'you have Sorry?"  
  
"That old game? Why would you want to play that boring old thing?"  
  
"It's old? I learned to play it. I don't know any other games. I have a book."  
  
"What one? Is it a good one?!"  
  
Steph watched as Jei sat down a nondescript brown bag and pulled out the large black Bible. He held it out with a smile.  
  
"This is my favorite book. D'you want to read it with me?"  
  
"Thats just a bible. Why would anyone want to read a bible?"  
  
"But, I like this book. It's the only book I've ever read."  
  
"You read the BIBLE?"  
  
"Don't you?"  
  
"No, never, not at all. It's BORING. About all those musty old codgers. Talking fires and angels, and its all nonsense. It's drivvle."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Charles!"  
  
"Sorry again... But its true Mommy! It's BORING!"  
  
"Mama, am I... Boring? Is it not all right to read the Word?"  
  
"No, no, darling, its quite all right. You can read your Bible as much as you want, for as long as you want too. You've got my permission. And I'll play Sorry with you this afternoon, if you REALLY want."  
  
"Will you? Play with me?"  
  
"Of course, Jei William."  
  
"Steph, who's, oh. Is that him? Is that your son?"  
  
"Yes, Theodore. Jei, thats your new Papa, Theodore, this is my first son, Jei William Orwells. Jei, d'you want to give your new Papa a hug?"  
  
The man smiled from the foot of the stairs, blue eyes alight, and black hair fine. Jei smiled and walked over, after carefully tucking the Bible back into his bag. He held out his arms and the man hugged him breifly.  
  
"Welcome home, then, Jei. I hope you like it here. You can stay as long as you like."  
  
---  
  
"Farfello, what are you doing, put that DOWN. NOW. Go get in the front seat of the car where I can watch you. Do what you're told."  
  
Farfello walked out of the door, his knife sitting on the floor, the blade covered in a fine layer of crimson. Crawford followed him out, walking past him, black hair fluttering slightly in the wind. He could HEAR the man's heart beat, practically see the blood moving in his veins.  
  
"CAR. NOW."  
  
Farfello got in, sitting there, the seatbelt unused at his side. He sat there as Brad Crawford drove, stern gaze on the road, Nagi's quiet breathing behind him, and the irritating sound of Schuldich's heart beating like a frightened bird's behind Crawford's seat. He looked around, taking in the veiw out the window. The window was spotless, not a watermark on it, not even any signs of wear. This was not a new car.  
  
"Out. Go stand by the corner of the bank."  
  
Farfello took the knife he was handed, inspecting it. It was his favorite hunting knife. He went to the place he was supposed to and stood there. For a minute. Then he wandered towards where he could HEAR the beating of the enemies hearts. Schuldich raced to fight, while Nagi hung back, using his powers, while Brad fired and dodged and fought with his Kitten. Farfello grinned and lunged, slicing and grabbing at his prey. He knew he was like a specter in the darkness, knew his white skin was practically luminescent.  
  
All he saw were those dark eyes glittering like a caged animal, and the glint off those silver blades as they came out and came for him. Farfello only began to laugh, while in his head the sounds of church bells ringing begins to swirl with the chants and prayers of Mass and the screams of victems.  
  
He ignored the instances when those blades caught him just a little, while he tried to kill his opponet. Then the Koneko melted away, back into the darkness and Nagi held him still while Brad sank a syringe into his neck, forcing the liquid inside out into his bloodstream.  
  
"Put it on him, now while we've got him still."  
  
---  
  
"Jei!"  
  
He turned, gold eyes peering at the figure running towards him, holding out her arms too him. He caught her, sweeping her up and carrying her.  
  
"Jei, Mommy said you could take me with you!"  
  
"I told you, Miranda. It's not safe. These people are mean."  
  
"But Jei! I want to go with you!"  
  
"Oh Miranda... All right. But keep your back to the wall, or too me, and don't smile at them or act nice. They'll hurt you if you seem to invite it."  
  
"Yes, Jei."  
  
Jei carried the girl down the streets, eventually setting her on her feet and having her to hold his hand as they went deeper into the city, into the slums and the falling apart places where people had no choice but to live. Jei looked a bit trashier than he did at home, while Miranda looked like their mother, and looked very uptown trendy.  
  
"Hey, Jei. Who's the killer knock out?"  
  
"Miranda. My little sister."  
  
"Hey, Miranda. Wanna come play?"  
  
The girl kept her back to Jei who held her arms tightly.  
  
"No. Get lost."  
  
"Ohhh, fiesty. All right, Miranda."  
  
The guy straightened up and smirked at the tall young man.  
  
"So, did you bring it?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's get off the street. You know you aren't gettin' it if people can see."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. All right, in here. C'mon I ain't got all day to do this, ya know."  
  
"Miranda, come on. Remember what I told you."  
  
"Yes, Jei."  
  
He walked in, ducking a little to get past the low doorway, and into the room. There was a worn bed in the room, a falling apart dresser stuffed with clothes. One bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling, a thin metal chain to turn it on with swinging in the draft from a half broken window. The guy shed a thin cloth jacket onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
Jei walked over and pulled a syringe and a length of plastic tubing from inside his coat. He knelt on the floor by the guy and tied the tubing tightly around his arm. Then he took the plastic sheild off the syringe and slid the needle into a vein, pressing the plunger down steadilly until it was empty.  
  
"'Niichan??"  
  
"Quiet Miranda."  
  
Jei's voice was harsh as he got too his feet and then leaned down. The guy grabbed him by the hair and slammed their mouthes together roughly before Jei moved back and held his hand out.  
  
"Give it up."  
  
The guy gave Jei a wad of cash and then Jei grabbed Miranda by the arm and move out of the building and down the alley to the street.  
  
"Now d'you see why I don't want you coming with me."  
  
"Yes 'Niichan...."  
  
"I'll take you to the downtown area, and then I want you to take a cab home. Understand?"  
  
"Yes.... Jei, why did you let him kiss you?"  
  
"Because I'm gay, Miranda. Now don't say anything to Mama, or to Papa Theodore. I'll be home soon. I have a couple more deliveries to make."  
  
"Yes Jei. Jei?"  
  
They were at the nice part of town, where Miranda was safe. He looked down and blinked.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I still love you. Don't get hurt!"  
  
The girl smiled and hugged him around the waist before turning and running deeper into the downtown shopping district. Jei turned and went back to the slums. He went deeper where everything was crumbling to nothing a lot faster, and rapped softly on a door. It slid partially open and he walked in, closing the door behind him.  
  
"I'm here for this week."  
  
"Great."  
  
---  
  
"Do you believe in God? Do you REALLY think he exists? Just because someone who's been dead for thousands of years says he is, does that make him real??"  
  
Farfello inquired from the preist tacked to the wall with some ornamental daggers. Farfello gazed at the man, his two gold eyes burning. His family was gone. They had all died in an explosion. And now, all the children were dead. That wasn't his fault though. That was the fault of that brown eyed devil. Hidaka Ken. That evil thing. He deserved to die too. Farfello hadn't been able to catch him.  
  
Farfello was sitting there when the double doors opened. He turned, the knife sitting on the floor next too him suddenly in his hand. He rose and stared at the figure framed in the light. His lips were twisted in a horrifying smile that was as pure and innocent as a child's while his entire being was dripping in red.  
  
"Jei, right. You're to come with me. You're to be one of my new nakama."  
  
"Who're you taking to."  
  
"You. You ARE Jei, aren't you?"  
  
Jei considered this. Was he still Jei? Jei was what his mother called him. He was innocent. Jei was a delicate person. No. He definantly wasn't Jei anymore. But, he still looked like Jei. He laughed as the bells began to ring as programed. He lifted the knife and plunged it under his eye, digging his fingers in feircely, levering the knife with the other hand and ripping his eyes from his face with a glass breaking scream, all the stained glass windows bursting into beautiful coloured shards of light. God's tears.  
  
"I'm Farfello!"  
  
Farfello dropped too his hands and knees, watching with his new vision as his eye rolled away and stoped about a foot from him, the gold iris staring at him. He saw the blood dripping from his face to the floor. He heard the footsteps through his laughter.  
  
A black boot came down, crushing his eye, spraying the stuff within it out, at him, letting it cling too him and run down his faceas he laughed breathlessly.  
  
"Farfello.... Jei is dead, my name is Farfello..."  
  
And he laughed.  
  
---  
  
"Farf?"  
  
He laughed, his one eye staring at the figure framed in the light, making out the green eyes carefully, the long red hair. He laughed until he couldn't hardly breathe.  
  
".....I was wrong, Schu.... I was wrong..... Hidaka Ken isn't the Devil.... I was so wrong.... The Devil.... I know who he is now... The Devil is you.... The Devil is you! YOU'RE SATAN!"  
  
He just laughed.  
  
~OWARI!~  
  
..... *faints*  
  
Muse Kaizer: *shudders and scrubbs at his wings* Ew..... Even for me that would be.... Ew.... And this was all her doing.... ew.....  
  
K. C. *muah!* =^.^= *Mew!* 


End file.
